Push and Pull
by RZZMG
Summary: "Sometimes when you push, you accidentally pull." That particular play on words is something Charlie Weasley had never expected to experience, himself... but when he gets stuck in a Ministry lift with Pansy Parkinson one afternoon, he'll discover the truth in that old wives' tale. Charlie x Pansy. Romance/Comedy/Drama. 2013 Charlieficathon entry.
1. Chapter 1

**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**This was my 2013 Charlieficathon Fest (charlieficathon . livejournal . com) entry. The fest is over and reveals are out, so now I can post this for you here. This fanfic is multi-chaptered, but is already finished. I will post a chapter up every week until it's done. Here was the prompt I worked from:**

_Prompt: #3 - Fic based on a "stuck" scenario (elevator, weather-related, etc.). Post-war. Would love for the majority of the fic to be told in dialogue. Lots of sexual tension, unresolved OK._

**Many thanks to UL, who gave me excellent advice on the plot for this fic, and LS for the beta work! Thanks to luvscharlie and lunalovepotter for Modding this great fest!**

**This is my first attempt at a Charlie x Pansy fic, and a second attempt at a fic with Charlie as a lead romantic character. I hope you enjoy this take on the trope!**

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**DISCLAIMER: **"Harry Potter" is the property of J.K. Rowling and Warner Bros. This fanfiction was written entirely for fun, not for profit, and no copyright infringement is intended.

**TIMELINE:** Post-Hogwarts. (year: 2006).

**MAIN CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name):** Pansy Parkinson, Charlie Weasley

**SECONDARY CHARACTERS FEATURED (alphabetical order, last name):** Reginald Cattermole, Stan Shunpike, Arthur Weasley

**SUMMARY:** "Sometimes when you push, you accidentally pull." That particular play on words is something Charlie had never expected to experience, himself... but when he gets stuck in a Ministry lift with Pansy Parkinson one afternoon, he'll discover the truth in that old wives' tale.

**RATING: **T (PG-15)

**WARNINGS:** Snarky insulting, Snogging, Copping a feel over clothes, Sexy talk & Sexual innuendo, Implied sex (off-screen, not described), Child birth (off-screen)

**Notes:** "To push" = slang for rejecting someone for sex. "To pull" = slang for trying to pick someone up for sex.

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_**PUSH AND PULL**_

**By: RZZMG**

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_**British Ministry of Magic, London**_

_**Friday, 14 July, 2006**_

_**The First Five Minutes...**_

"Don't be an idiot, Weasley. Just push really hard."

Charlie wanted to laugh at the irony that was his life. Of all the women in the world to be in _this_ particular situation with, he had never imagined it would be with his little brother's demanding ex-lover, Pansy Parkinson.

He almost wished he was anywhere else at that very moment.

"I _am_ pushing - as hard as I can!" he growled at the witch. "Can't you tell?"

Parkinson snorted and tossed her head back to blow her dark, sweaty bangs from her eyes. "Not really. I can't feel anything different at all."

Charlie sighed. "Then you give it a go, if you're so keen." He tossed her a suggestive smirk. "I'm sure I'll get my rocks off watching you take charge."

The witch frowned at his lewd commentary, and then brusquely shoved him aside and began pressing the elevator button with gusto - to no avail. They were still stuck somewhere in the magical ether between floors four and five of the British Ministry, their progress paused for some unknown reason.

"Oh, for Salazar's sake, this is ridiculous!" she snarled when she realised she was getting absolutely no results. "Where the bloody hell is Magical Maintenance when you need them?"

Charlie snorted. "It's Friday, lunchtime. Where'd you think they've all gone off to? They're at the pub for an early weekend starter." He slammed his fist against the metal wall in frustration, his quick temper riled. "Precisely where I'd planned to be before getting stuck in this blasted cage with a slag like you!"

Charlie winced. Okay, so that wasn't a very nice thing to say, but a part of him felt a bit justified, as Parkinson _had_ cheated on Ron that one time and broke them up as a result.

Besides, he reasoned, if the witch hadn't jumped into his lift seconds before the door had closed, and then begun smacking one button after another, he was quite sure their lift wouldn't be stuck now. Somehow, she'd broken the elevator -with him in it- and _that_ didn't endear her to him in the least.

Furthermore, she was making him miss out on hooking-up with one Enola Capucine at The Leaky for a lunch date (not that Charlie had been looking forward to the blind date Bill had set up for him today, as the tall, beauteous blonde witch didn't sound like the type of woman he'd be attracted to _at all _as she was one of Fleur's school friends -the typical French, pureblood socialite who hated the outdoors, smoked entirely too much, and ate nothing but salad for all three daily meals- but he'd figured on enjoying a pint or three to make up for what was sure to be a pleasantly forgettable speed dating session).

Basically, being trapped in a small, enclosed space with the pushy, stuck-up Parkinson, when he was hungry and dying for a bitter, had put him a right foul mood. So, it was natural he'd snap and say something mean in such a case, right?

...Yeah, that was a totally crappy excuse. He should definitely apologise.

Parkinson turned on him before he could open his mouth, though, her wand tip tucked nice and tight under his chin. Her face was a mask of righteous fury, her little pug nose wrinkling as her lip curled with anger. "If any one of you red-headed morons calls me that word one more time, I'll rip out your bollocks and feed them to you for breakfast. I am _not_ a slag!"

Charlie raised an eyebrow at that, but wisely said nothing. Instead, he stared her down, waiting for her to flinch. She didn't, of course. Those brilliant blue-green eyes of hers merely stared right back at him, daring him to open his mouth and refute her claim.

Parkinson, he suddenly realised, might be a Slytherin in her soul, but she clearly had the temper of a Gryffindor. The queen viper, it seemed, would bite when provoked, rather than slither away and hide. Strangely, he found he respected her for that strength.

"Sorry," he stated quickly. "Didn't mean it. I'm frustrated, is all."

She stared at him long and hard, before finally dropping her wand arm, turning her nose up, and sniffing in dismissal. "Whatever." She returned her attention to the control station again, intently focussing on every curve and angle. "If only the budget had allowed for a lift attendant, like the good, old days, hmmm? Well, there has to be some way of calling for help. Surely, they've got contingencies for just such a break-down." She started fiddling with the various buttons, pushing them all in order, top to bottom. They lit up, and then went dark again. She tried it again in backwards order with the same results. "This sort of thing must happen all the time around here, what with _your _corruptible lot running the Ministry nowadays."

Charlie became instantly incensed by her accusation. "What the hell does that mean? My family doesn't run the Ministry, and we're not corrupt!"

Parkinson sniffed again. "Really? Your father's the Minister now that Shacklebolt's stepped down, Percy is the Minister's Ambassadorial Representative to the I.C.W., you're the head of the Dragon Research and Restraint Bureau in the Beast Division, your sister-in-law, Fleur, is the current Head of the Goblin Liaison Office, and Ron's not only a high-ranked Auror, but he's also got the ear of the Head Auror, Harry Potter. Tell me that isn't nepotism at its finest."

"It's not!" he snarled in automatic defence of his family. "We all earned our positions, working hard to rebuild everything after the war." He stepped closer to her and poked her in the shoulder. "If not for our efforts, sweetheart, you and your family would have been dragged back down to the courtrooms in chains for a retrial, with a rigged presiding assembly to decide your fate, instead of getting the small slap on the wrist you'd received. In case you forgot, there were a lot of really angry people back then who'd wanted to see anyone even remotely involved with the Dark Lord end up in a pair of striped pyjamas. If they'd had their way, your family would have rotted alongside the other sympathizers in Azkaban. Now, you're not just a free citizen, but you're also sitting pretty in a cherry job in International Magical Co-Op. So, chew on _that_ little nugget before insulting my family's honour."

Pansy was completely undaunted by his proximity, his glare, or his poking finger. She merely stared up at him with a cool serpent's gaze. "Feels pretty lousy to be slandered by false allegations, doesn't it?" she asked, and tossed him a wry smirk. "Welcome to my world."

It took Charlie a moment to realise what exactly she'd really meant by that statement. When he got it, he let out a deep breath and his anger simply evaporated. "You were fucking with me, then? You didn't mean it at all."

She rolled her eyes and snorted in a delicate, ladylike fashion. "I spent every Sunday for eight months around the Weasley table at brunches. Of course I know your lot's not the type to wrest control for your own desires. If you had been, your family certainly wouldn't be living in Ottery St. Catchpole, for one. They'd be in a posh Hyde Park townhouse overlooking the royal commons. And two, Ron would be head of the Auror Department, not Potter." Her smirk widened. "Clearly, you're all too goody-good for your own good. Justice, and fairness, and all that."

Turning her attention to the buttons on the wall again, Parkinson punched the one for 'Lobby' a few more times. When there was again no lift movement in response, she sighed, and with great poise, squatted down to open a panel door just underneath the buttons. Charlie noted that she was careful to assure that her skirt was properly tucked underneath her knees so nothing indecent would flash him.

She leaned a bit forward, balancing precariously on the balls of her toes, the ridiculously high heels of her dress shoes lifting off the floor. "Huh. Well, _that's_ convenient," she stated, staring into the panel she'd just opened.

"What is?" he asked, not squatting down, but leaning a bit forward to look over her shoulder... and getting a nice, accidental peep show at the same time. From his angle, he could see right down Parkinson's blouse. Her red, satin bra matched her shirt and was a push-up, and it was doing wonders to give her a sweet, well-defined cleavage.

"This is," she stated, pointing to a large, red lever inside the panel, with the words, 'Pull in case of Emergency' written underneath.

"Huh. What do you know? Well, pull it down then," Charlie bid. "Let's see what happens."

She shrugged. "Right, but you're taking responsibility," she forewarned before reaching out and doing as he'd instructed.

Lowering the handle required her to rise up a bit so she could press her weight down upon the handle to make it move. It gave a great _'ka-thunk'_ when she finally managed to get it all the way down... and the lift dropped a foot in response. Charlie's stomach fell into his shoes and a nervous sweat broke out upon his brow.

Parkinson let the handle go, shot to her feet, and backpedaled right into Charlie, pressing them both into the far corner of the elevator, as far away from the handle as possible. Her breathing was as rapid as his, and he was betting her eyes were just as wide as they both stared at the lever in terror. One never knew what surprises had been left over from Voldemort's reign here at the Ministry; they were finding things all the time to put back into order, even all these years later.

When a minute passed, then two, then five, and nothing more happened, both he and Parkinson relaxed.

"Let's not do that again," he said, his heart sliding back down his throat to take its rightful place in his chest.

Parkinson's dark head bobbed up and down. "Agreed."

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_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

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**AUTHOR'S NOTES:**

**Please review! **


	2. Chapter 2

_**The Next Twenty Minutes**_

Once they'd climbed out of their 'safe corner' and stepped away from each other, Parkinson turned her wand on the lift doors to try a variety of spells to open them. She didn't seem to be having any success. Charlie, meanwhile, looked around the other three walls, the ceiling, and even the floor for a magical escape hatch that could be popped open from inside and take them automatically to an exit. There wasn't one, only a long strip around the base board that allowed for air flow, so they wouldn't suffocate... which seemed a very piss poor escape plan in case of fire or worse, to his way of thinking. He made a mental note to bring up that design flaw to his father as soon as possible, so the Ministry could get someone to re-engineer the lifts.

"Maybe we can blast our way out," Parkinson mused, while tapping her wand against her outer thigh and contemplating the doors. "They can't be that strong."

At that point, Charlie reached out and took her wand from her hand in a quick grab.

She whirled with a surprised gasp. "Give me that back!" she demanded.

"Not a chance in hell," he stated. "Criminey, woman, haven't you ever read how the lifts work?" He pointed towards the door with his free hand, careful to keep her wand in his other palm. "That's null space out there. If we don't come out exactly at one of the lift exits, we aren't getting out – ever."

She scoffed, and tried a fast snatch for her wand. He thwarted her easily by shifting his body to counter. "What are you babbling about?" she groused, trying again for her wand in another quick move, but Charlie was faster than her. He managed to keep her from achieving her goal by turning in the opposite direction at the last second.

The lift really was too small for this kind of play, but seriously, there was no way Charlie was letting Parkinson get her wand back if she intended on using it as she'd stated. She'd kill them both, the daft witch!

"This is a lift, just like the one at St. Mungo's. Same thing," she remarked, manoeuvering around him. Charlie turned with her, thwarting her attempts to get behind his back, where her wand was currently being held.

Desperate now, she tried a third and final time to grab her property back from him, but Charlie decided he'd had enough of the dodge-and-weave and instead simply held it above her head where she couldn't reach it, despite the advantage she had of three inches of heel. Flustered when she realised the game was up, she actually growled at him and bared her teeth.

"Give me my wand back, you infantile baboon!"

Charlie couldn't help his reaction; he laughed. It was actually fun teasing Parkinson... and she was kind of cute when she was torqued, he thought.

"Sorry, but no," he firmly informed her. "And you're wrong - it's not the same at all. The lifts at St. Mungo's are contained by actual physical walls, and only go up and down by charms that raise and lower them. The Ministry isn't just an up and down complex. It also extends in a variety of directions under London. Only the Atrium, the Minister's offices, and his support staff offices are located under Whitehall. Everyone else is spread out all over London. We're currently 'in between' buildings, in a dimension created by a spell that connects them. The lifts move between those spaces to take you to the different 'levels' of the Ministry. If you blast a hole in the wall or door of the lift, and we fall... we'll keep falling forever. We'll be lost in time and space."

His companion gave him a look filled with incredulity. "That can't possibly be true." As if she'd decided that she was completely right in that belief, she squared her shoulders and crossed her arms, raising her chin. "You're just making that up to mess with me."

"I'm not, I promise you," Charlie asserted with all confidence.

Lids narrowing in scepticism, Pansy seemed to mull over his sincerity. "Okay, I'm game," she finally pronounced, still unconvinced, but willing to listen. "Explain to me how it is possible that we're not in an actual building right this second."

Charlie shrugged. "Right, well, you asked for it, sweetheart. You remember from Binns' History of Magic class when he explained that the British Ministry used to be called the Wizards' Council, and that every department was its own little authority prior to the late 1600's?"

Pansy nodded.

"Well, each of those departments was located in a different part of the city way back then, and none of them wanted to give up that ground, even after the Wizards' Council decided to unite all of the different departments to form the British Ministry of Magic. The political hierarchy may have changed, but there was still a lot of political intrigue keeping the various departments apart. To get everyone to work together cooperatively, the first official Minister allowed the various departments to keep their own home-base locations, rather than move them all into the main location they'd picked under Whitehall. Instead, he'd tasked the Unspeakables –who were a monastic Order of magical scholars back then– to come up with a spell to connect the different buildings together in a way that wouldn't be noticeable by the Muggles living around them. It took them five years, but the Unspeakables finally developed the perfect spell for the job: the Undetectable Extension Charm, which is basically a big dimensional pocket of null space that can be used to store things. In this case, they crafted them into giant portals, rather than storage devices, linking one building to another. The Unspeakables set each building –or 'level', as we now call them– to a different magical frequency and bespelled the 'lifts' to recognise the different magical frequencies, and to move between them without crashing into other lifts heading for the same spot. So, when you push level four to go to the Department for the Regulations and Control of Magical Creatures, you're actually being shunted off at lightning fast speed to the old Circus building under Piccadilly Circus, where my department's building is located. When you press level nine for the Department of Mysteries, you're moving under the gardens of Charterhouse Square. If someone pressed that level before you, their lift would arrive before yours, and yours would open its doors for that location only once their lift had gone. It's ingenious, actually."

Pansy's eyes widened, and she looked worried. "So... where does level five take you?"

"International Magical Co-op is under Knightsbridge"

"That's- I mean- It's too complicated to make sense! Why the hell not just move everyone under one location?" she asked, clearly agitated. A sheen of sweat broke out above her lip. "And why call them 'levels', if the lifts aren't actually going up and down?"

Charlie sighed, seeing where this discussion was now headed. Clearly, Parkinson was one of the 'blissfully ignorant' when it came to learning the how and why of things working, and that type tended to panic when they were finally told the truth. Just what he needed – a hysterical witch on his hands. "To answer your first question: I already explained that there were politics involved in the unifying of the various factions of magic under one governing body. It was a lot of work to get some of the different groups to play nice with each other. No one understood the Unspeakables, no one liked the Law Enforcers, and the only group everyone seemed to get along with was Magical Sports, and then it was only so long as there wasn't drinking allowed at their meetings. Try telling a bunch of stubborn, power-hungry bureaucrats from differing factions that they have to give up some of their autonomy and their primary residence for the 'greater good', and watch them lose their effing minds." He shrugged. "Compromises had to be made. As for your second question: because they're called 'lifts', and people expect 'levels' when they step off of one." He smirked at his own joke. "Human nature is a bit too funny with its cultural idiosyncrasies. It's why I prefer dragons, truthfully. Very straight-forward."

Pansy tossed him a wry smile. "Goodness, where did the Chuck Weasley I know go, because you sound nothing like him. From how I remember it, he'd usually talk about beasts, beer, and the newest broomsticks around the Weasley supper table."

He frowned, his irritation scratching the surface once more at her intentionally inflammatory nickname. "It's Charlie, sweetheart, never Chuck. Not if you want to ever see your wand again in this lifetime. And I'll have you know, I graduated top of my class. Just because I like the outdoors, can appreciate a well-crafted bitter, and think Quidditch is an excellent sport doesn't mean I'm a simpleton. Don't make that mistake."

Parkinson rolled her eyes. "Oh, you're right. How silly of me. We should leave that fairly-accurate descriptive noun for your little brother, my ex. It hangs off his shoulders much better anyway. And getting back to the topic at hand: what you're saying about the Ministry lifts… it's patently impossible. Nothing can live inside an Undetectable Extension Charm. That I do recall quite clearly from Flitwick's class."

"Of course it's possible," Charlie grumbled, tired of this discussion already. "They're Unspeakables! If they can design Time-Turners and make disembodied brains talk and deliver prophetic advice, then modifying an Undetectable Extension Charm to allow for living things to pass through it on one end and come out safe and sound on the other would be a snap." He folded his arms across his broad chest and leaned back against the wall. "Hell, if they wanted to, they could probably make rainbows fly out of your arse until you shit gold."

Parkinson made a face. "Charming. No wonder you Weasley men can never keep a quality girl." She waved a casual hand at him in dismissal. "Still, what you're saying doesn't make sense," she stated, turning her back on him and considering the lift's control panel again. "If it were true, we wouldn't have gotten stuck. We should have gone right to level one – the Ministry Lobby, since that's the first button that was lit up when I entered the lift. So, what's the hold-up?"

Unsure if he should tell her his current theory, which he'd been mulling over since the moment he'd first realised they'd gotten stuck, Charlie kept his mouth closed. Better not to say, since it was clear Parkinson was snarking at him mostly out of fear of their situation. The tell-tale twitch in her left eye was the obvious indication that she was distressed. He'd noticed it growing stronger over the last few minutes, in particular, since he'd started explaining how things around here worked.

Yeah, better to just not share. Upsetting her worse would be bad.

"Well?" she pressed, shutting the panel with the handle she'd earlier pulled. It had slowly returned to its original position all on its own. "Do you have any theories in that big brain of yours?"

He cleared his throat. "Not really."

She turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. Her eyes were narrowed slits again, reptilian and glittering with intelligence in the dim, straw-coloured light emitted from the tiny floating orb above the door. "Lying to me now? After _so_ much honesty."

"Sarcasm looks ugly on you," Charlie muttered. "Fine. I've an idea why we're stuck, but you're not going to like it." He threw her a challenging look. "Still want to hear it?"

She turned all the way around and leaned against the closed doors, arms crossed. "I'm all ears."

He took a deep breath and let it out nice and slow. "I watched you accidentally jam two buttons at once when you got into the lift – the one for level one and the one for level two. Unfortunately, I think that scrambled the signal-locking capability on the spell that moves the lifts, and it froze up. That's why the lifts used to have an Operator in every one; they were in charge of selecting floors, preventing the possibility of rider error. Now that the Operators have been done away with because there's no budget, I'll bet my left foot that Magical Maintenance has had their hands full with lifts getting stuck, just like ours."

Parkinson scoffed, as he'd expected. "I meant to go to the Lobby. Why would I possibly hit the button for level two as well?"

Charlie met her eye and hit her with his theory. "Magical Law Enforcement is on level two."

She looked away and nonchalantly shrugged, but Charlie could see her body tremble. "So?"

"Ron works there."

Parkinson refused to look at him, but her jaw clenched and her shaking intensified.

"You're still seeing him, aren't you?"

Slowly, she shook her head. "No, it's not like that. It's-" She clamped her lips together, and to his surprise, tears flooded her eyes. "Sometimes, I... I just go by. I can't seem to help it. I... I just don't understand why it ended like it did. I need to know why he- he-"

"Let you go," Charlie kindly defined it.

She clammed up, hastily wiping at her eyes. Unfortunately, the flood gates had been opened, and Parkinson's layers had been peeled. Charlie had embarrassed her by revealing a humiliating secret and that had made her vulnerable, as he'd guessed might be the case. Hence the reason he hadn't wanted to mention his theory at all.

Tears poured down Pansy's pale cheeks, streaming faster than she could stop them.

"I'm sorry-" he began, but she cut him off.

"Don't," she hissed, stamping her foot in righteous anger. "Don't you dare. I don't want pity from any Weasley!"

Despite her rebuff, Charlie couldn't help but feel sorry for her. She just looked so sad - which was strange, since Ron seemed perfectly fine the last time Charlie had seen him. In fact, his little brother was fucking his way through the other half of London, blissfully unregretful of the loss of his relationship with Parkinson. Yet, here she stood, clearly wrecked by it.

Cripes, what had really happened between her and his little brother? Was it as Ron had told them all, or...

Charlie tucked her wand into the holster where he stored his own at his side for safekeeping and crossed the short distance between them. He reached out slowly and placed a hand on her shoulder. "S'okay," he offered, trying to save her pride with a tiny lie. "It's only the stress of being stuck here. It's getting to me, too."

Pansy looked up at him with shiny, wide eyes. "Shit, I forgot - you're one of the nice ones," she murmured, and dropped her chin, resting her forehead on his chest. Hesitantly, Charlie gathered her up in his arms, hating to see a woman cry, and offered her his support. Hell, it was the least he could do, since he was the wanker who'd made her cry to begin with.

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**_TO BE CONTINUED..._**

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**Author's Notes:**

**Please review! I'd love to hear your thoughts!**


	3. Chapter 3

_**The Next Twenty Minutes**_

With Parkinson a mournful mess, Charlie had decided to take matters into his own hands and moved them to sit on the floor to spare her feet (those heels looked wicked, and he couldn't understand how any woman could stand in them for five minutes). He situated her between his legs with her back to him, and he'd wrapped his arms around her to keep her warm, knowing well by now how any sort of shock (and she was suffering such a thing, it seemed) affected all creatures, great and small.

To his surprise, Pansy was _quite_ small, comparatively speaking. He hadn't expected that his embrace would engulf her shivering frame so completely. Consequently, he was feeling a primitive, masculine protectiveness over her – one he'd never experienced before.

"Tell me something: why didn't it work out between you and Ron?"

Genuinely curious, Charlie figured he'd confront the two-thousand pound elephant sharing the room with them, rather than try to manoeuvre around it. Clearly, Pansy could use the talk, and maybe she could clear up the few inconsistencies in Ron's story regarding their break-up that had always bothered Charlie.

"W-w-what?" she asked, her teeth chattering. Unconsciously, she snuggled deeper into him, turning so that her side was pressed into him and she could cuddle. Charlie adjusted his legs to give her room, his knees cranking up to either side to create a protective barrier around her. He tried to pass some of his warmth off to her by holding her closer to his chest.

"Ron said he'd caught you practically in bed with another bloke."

At that, Pansy's head snapped up… and nearly clipped his chin. Her lovely azurite gaze was once more filled with cold, Slytherin fire. "That l-lying, l-little bastard!"

Charlie stretched the edges of his flannel as far as they would go, wrapping them about Parkinson's dainty shoulders. "Tell me," he bid.

She huffed and huddled back into him, stealing his heat. "I-it was the other w-way around," she sulkily stated, her chattering slowly dissipating as her core temperature returned to normal. "I c-caught him snogging that s-slag, Granger."

At that, Charlie raised an eyebrow. "Not possible."

"Yeah? T-tell that to my eyes." She reached out and absently caressed the dragon tattoo on his left forearm. "And while you're at it, s-scrub my brain for me, too. I'd like to completely forget-t ever having dated that… that… w-weasel of a man."

Charlie laughed. "I can assure you that if my brother was caught kissing Hermione Granger, it wasn't upon her instigation. No doubt that little bleeder cornered her. He's been sniffing after her off and on since she dumped him. He can't let it go that she'd tossed him over."

Pansy leaned back and stared hard at him. "G-gee, thanks. That makes me feel so much better." She shivered, but finally managed to get the rattling of her teeth to stop. "And you can spare me the lies. Granger had wanted him back in school. Everyone knew. That summer after the war-"

"Yeah, they'd hooked up," Charlie said, wincing at the unpleasant memories. "Believe me, I know. I was the one who kept walking in on them accidentally." With disgust, he shook his head, trying to dislodge the visions of his brother's pale, freckly arse rocking and rolling as he fucked his ever-loving brains out all over the rebuilt Burrow that summer. "It took Hermione two months of shagging to figure out, though, that Ron just wasn't her cup o' tea. She dumped him before taking off to return to Hogwarts that September."

"I knew that," Pansy said. "That's when she and Draco became friends."

Charlie felt his lips curl in amusement. "Ah, but did the illustrious Ferret explain to you _why_, exactly, Granger returned to school that year?"

"To finish her N.E.W.T.s, of course."

He burst out into laughter. "That was certainly one reason, yes. The other had to do with a certain blonde."

Pansy's eyes widened to saucers and her jaw dropped. "You mean her and Draco-?"

Charlie shook his head. "Not the right blonde. Not even the right gender."

He watched the wheels turn 'round in Pansy's head, before her incredulity hit the roof.

_"Lovegood?!"_

"Yep."

"Shit. Well… that would have been nice to know." His companion sighed. "So, then he was forcing a kiss onto Granger, and she had nothing to do with it. Figures. Your brother was always a dog, even around my girlfriends. Always panting after fine arse when he thought I wasn't looking."

"So, then there's no truth to the rumour that you're a slag who had it off with Seamus Finnigan?" Charlie inquired.

Pansy bit her bottom lip. "There may have been a revenge snog after that, yes, but I _didn't_ sleep with Finnigan." She glared up at him again. "And I'm not a slag! Ron was the only man I've ever-" She paused, and Charlie was surprised to see her cheeks blooming with the lovely blush of unexpected shyness. Her attention dropped to his chin as her bravado slipped away and modesty, of all things, took its place. "I'd been raised in the old manner, told to save myself for marriage, but… but I'd loved him, and I'd thought he was 'The One'. I'd thought it was right, so… you know."

She cleared her throat and Charlie noted that her cheeks were burning a brighter shade of crimson. Strangely, he found it rather becoming against the backdrop of her milky, smooth skin.

"Anyway, that thing with Finnigan only happened because I'd wanted to hurt Ron," she admitted. "He'd hurt me with Granger, and I'd wanted some pay-back." She suddenly looked very sad, her lids drooping with defeat. "I'd only ended up hurting myself, though, because Finnigan was Ron's mate, and he went right along with slandering me - even though he's the one who'd made the first move. Randy Irish bastard. The both of them are rotten, no-good liars and cheats."

Charlie considered her words, and found veracity in not only her gloomy expression, but also in her tone of voice. Besides, what she'd said filled in a lot of the holes from Ron's version of the tale, and he could see how the story had been skewed. "I'm sorry," he said, truly feeling pity for her, reaching up to tuck a wayward strand of dark hair behind her ear. Ron had said some horrible things about his ex-girlfriend since their relationship's end, but it sounded as though very little of it had been true. "My little brother can be a right tosser, I know."

He did, too. More than once, Ron had made their mother cry, especially the autumn after the war, when his littlest brother had still been working with George in his shoppe. During that time, he remembered Ron had been resentful of the responsibility of helping to keep his brother's spirits up and the store going, of Hermione dumping him, of Harry's fame, and of the lack of attention he was receiving. He'd let his bitterness run away with his mouth, and more than once, their mother had burst into tears as a result.

Charlie had given his little bro a nasty shiner that last time, in fact, when Ron had cruelly reminded them all that Fred was gone and they needed to "just let it go and stop moping". That fight had prompted Ron to quit the family biz, to move out of the Burrow and into Grimmauld Place, and to join his best friend in the Auror's office, alongside Finnigan and Neville Longbottom. After that, Ron's head had swelled like a watermelon, especially when witches had started Owling their knickers to him. Honestly, Charlie hadn't liked his brother very much since.

There had been a small glimmer of hope for Ron, Charlie had believed, when last year his little brother had begun to date Pansy Parkinson. Charlie may not have liked the witch very much then, but he'd been willing to give her a break, realizing that her actions during the war had been because she'd been seventeen and stupid. However, eight or so months after they'd begun to see each other on an exclusive basis, Ron had suddenly dumped Pansy and gone back to trolling for pussy.

Until just this moment, Charlie had always assumed the reason had been Pansy's cheating and that Ron had been the victim in that break-up. Now, he knew better.

Honestly, he felt a little guilty for having thought the worst of the witch in his arms.

* * *

_**TO BE CONTINUED...**_

* * *

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:**

**Please review!**


	4. Chapter 4

_**Five Silent Minutes Later...**_

"So, what about you?"

"What about me?"

Pansy shrugged. "You wanted to distract me from having a major wobbler with talk, so… talk. What about you? Have you found a nice witch to settle down with yet?" A small smirk decorated her lips. "Your mother was always worried that you'd end up with only your magical creatures for company. I'd once jokingly told her that compared to some witches I knew, your wild beasts would be preferable."

He snickered, remembering well the one time last year that he and his family had gone together to one of Ginny's Quidditch games. His parents had come, as had all of brothers' wives and his nieces and nephews. Harry had met them at the stadium, loyal to his wife's team no matter their near last-place standing, and Pansy had been shuttled about on Ron's arm that day. To Charlie's surprise, Pansy had brought along one of her friends, Daphne Greengrass, in an effort to play the matchmaker for the odd-man-out - _him_. What a disaster that had been! The tall, blonde witch had been as fussy and prissy as Charlie had anticipated. Needless to say, he hadn't called on Daphne after the game had ended.

"Why did you try to set me up with that Greengrass bint anyway?" he asked, sincerely curious. "We hardly knew each other."

Pansy's face shifted into a smooth, well-practised expression of innocence. "Don't know what you're talking about. I merely invited Daphne along to keep me company."

He lightly pinched her side in admonishment. "Liar."

Her giggle was a lovely sound, and her face transformed once more, this time into sincere playfulness. "Okay, so maybe I _did_ try to set you up. Can you blame a girl for trying to help her girlfriend get laid and a good man to find the right one? Besides, I'm a sucker for lost causes, and you" -she poked him in the chest- "are as lost a cause as I've ever seen when it comes to women."

Charlie harrumphed. "Am not. I've dated plenty."

Pansy raised an eyebrow at that, her impish grin tugging at the edges of her mouth.

"I have, I swear!" he defended himself. "Not my fault that none of those birds were right."

Pansy settled back into him, pulling the edges of his flannel around her once more. "Face it, Charles Weasley, your mum was right about you: you're too picky. I watched you the entire eight months I dated your brother, and not once did I see you bring a witch around." She turned her head a bit and glanced at him from her peripheral vision. "You're not queer are you?"

"NO!" he refuted. "I like women."

"You're not an initiate in one of those preachy, abstinence-only religious vocations?"

"No."

"Sworn off relationships as a result of some woman ripping out your soul and stepping all over it?"

"No, no, and no! I've told you already: I just haven't met the right woman yet."

Pansy _tsk'd_ and returned to toying with his shirt hem. "Then you're definitely too picky, because no respectable wizard your age is single without a girlfriend unless he's gay, he's chosen celibacy as a vocation, he's wand-shy after a bad break-up, or he's simply too finicky for his own good."

He grumbled, "I am not picky or finicky, or anything else of that nature. I just want…" He paused, considering the things he was looking for in a mate. "Well, someone who's..." He stumbled over the list for his ideal girlfriend, because he wasn't sure where to start. There were quite a few criteria on the list that were important, and ordering them seemed difficult to do, honestly.

Fireworks were very important. Between him and a girl, there had to be hot, sparking chemistry that burned him up like dragon's flame on dry tinder. He refused to be involved in a comfortable, but passionless relationship, like Percy's and Audrey's.

Beauty and brains had to go hand-in-hand. His perfect witch had to have both of those qualities in abundance, and he was partial to brunettes who had curves.

He wanted someone who was moderately independent, but not so much that she wouldn't like old-fashioned romantic gestures. Charlie may not seem the type, but he was a man who would hand-pick flowers for his lovers, light candles just to make love, and he enjoyed getting naked in a hot, bubbly tub with his woman.

She had to be fierce, but also clever in her spirit. He needed a woman willing to give back as good as she got, especially from him, because he had a temper and sometimes said things in the heat of passion that he didn't mean. Being called on his stupidity when he stepped out of line was a must. No shrinking violets for him, thanks.

With his list partially arranged, he began to recite it in random order. "She's got to have-"

"Large breasts," Pansy interrupted with a hint of amusement, "long, limber legs, and a waif-like figure? It's what all men want."

Charlie considered those prerequisites, as he hadn't been that specific in his internal wants and desires. "Well, a good bust is not a bad starting point, actually. Not too big though. A handful is all that's needed - like yours, for instance. They'd fit nice in a man's palms. As for being long of leg, I'd rather have a woman who fits well tucked under my arm, not one I have to stand on tip-toe to reach. Someone about your size, I'd say. And as for a stick-figure... Nah, I'm more partial to women with meat on their hips, thighs, and arse. Like yours," he blurted without thought. "You've got a nice backside, Parkinson."

There was a momentary pause as they both weighed that revealing statement.

Realising what he's actually said Charlie winced and waited for the screeching fallout.

"Thank you, I suppose," Pansy said instead, shocking him. She sounded as if she were blushing again, although Charlie couldn't see her face from his current angle, only the back of her head.

"It-it's true," he assured her, hearing the doubt in her tone. "You fill out your jumpers and trousers quite nicely and... well, you really are a good height for a bloke. Bet you hear that all the time, yeah?"

Pansy didn't reply, but her shoulders went a bit stiffer, her spine a little straighter, and he could sense her unease as she fiddled with one of the buttons on his flannel.

He frowned, picking up on the insinuation in her silence. "You're having me on? Surely, Ron mentioned it back when you were together?"

She shrugged, still picking at his button, loosening the thread that wound between the eyelets and held the button secured to the shirt. "He'd said I'd looked nice a time or two, but nothing that specific. I could tell he'd liked my hips by the way he'd keep referring to them as 'solid birthing hips', but I'd never gotten the sense that he'd been satisfied with anything else."

Charlie realised by the slight tightening of his cargo pants that this discussion was becoming a bit too provocative... and yet, he found he didn't want to stop talking about it. Especially when Pansy leaned forward, and her silky, dark hair slid with gravity, revealing the soft nape of her neck. That pale column beckoned him to put his lips all over it...

He swallowed to clear his throat. "His mistake."

It was quite again between them, but then Pansy let out a surprised gasp and her breath suddenly hitched. "What are you doing?"

"Huh?"

She turned in his arms to face him. "Your hands."

The sudden awareness of what his hands were doing had Charlie going stock-still. He'd been rubbing over her hips, feeling them out, subconsciously noting that Ron had been right about them. "Er, sorry."

He pulled away, holding his hands open to show he'd meant no harm. Pansy merely gazed at him, astonishment etched upon her rounded features.

As they continued to stare at each other, neither one sure as to what to say or do next, her expression slowly shifted. A hint of wry amusement arched her brows, while heat shimmered in her pretty eyes. "Maybe there is hope for you after all," she whispered.

When her pink-painted lips touched down upon his, Charlie felt a violent jolt go through him. It travelled first up his backbone, zinging that sensitive, spongy spot at the very back of his skull, and then down each vertebra of his spine, before finally settling deep into his groin. That electrifying feeling in his pelvis triggered a mad rush of his blood through his body, and caused an acceleration of his heartbeat. The fire of instant lust took hold and shook him hard. It caused his hands to return to where they'd previously been on her hips, clamping down and holding on, and for him to go hard with want.

With a low groan, Charlie yielded his lips to Pansy's rather fervent exploration, and sampled what she offered in return.

God, her mouth was so soft, and it tasted of cherry cordials. He was instantly captivated.

When Pansy pulled back to break the kiss, he went with her, recapturing her lips and sliding his tongue home into her warm, wet mouth. He refused to let this go so soon, needing more. She moaned and melted into him, opening up and letting him in.

A greedy craving for her unexpectedly pounded in Charlie's body. He pulled his witch in tight and wrapped his legs around her, crossing his booted ankles to trap her smaller frame fully between his thighs, locking her into the curve of his body. Fortunately, Pansy seemed completely on-board with the plan of getting closer; she let her weight fall completely into Charlie in full surrender. She carded her fingers through his hair as she let him into the depths of her mouth without reservation. And when he slid his hand up to cup one of her breasts over her blouse, she let it happen without any protest.

The far-off sound of a familiar 'ping' registered in Charlie's ears, but the rest of him was much too enamoured with what he was doing to care, and so he ignored the warning sound.

"Merlin's beard! Well... I can't say this is a _complete_ surprise."

"Umm, Minister, isn't he one of yours?"

"Jove's balls! Yer pardon fer the colourful language, sirs. Didn't know this kind o' fraternizin' was allowed in government offices, is all. Took me by complete surprise, it did!"

Charlie tore his mouth from Pansy's (and his hand from its pleasant wanderings high up on her chest) at the familiar voices coming from the now-opened lift doors. Apparently, neither he, nor Pansy had noticed the lift moving, so lost in each other as they'd been. Their crisis had somehow been averted and they'd been saved.

"Talk about bad timing," Pansy snarked as she pressed her forehead against Charlie's chest.

"Uh, yeah," Charlie said with a sigh. "Shit," he mumbled under his breath.

The doors to the lift started to close again, but his father's arm across them halted their progression and forced them to automatically re-open. They gave off that tell-tale pinging sound at being thwarted.

Arthur Weasley cleared his throat. "Yes, well... I don't suppose the two of you would like to come out of there now?"

Quickly, Pansy untangled herself from Charlie's hold. Reluctantly, he let her go. She stood up, fixing her wrinkled skirt and blouse, refusing to look at him. Her face was flaming red and her lips lovely and swollen, he thought.

"Thank you," she said to him as she stepped back to give him room to stand up. Charlie did so, looking down at her. She continued to stare off at a spot to the left, rearranging her necklace so it fell between the 'v' of her breast. "For helping me to talk about... you know... to tell my side, too. I appreciate it. It truly helped."

Charlie shifted his shirt back into some order and re-buttoned it. "Sure," he said, uneasy with the sudden distance between them after sharing the hottest snog of his life.

Pansy stood there for a moment more, clearly uncertain, too. "So, I'll just be on my way now," she finally offered, and spun around. "Excuse me, gentlemen." She strode out, moving between the gap created by Charlie's father, Reginald Cattermole, the head of Magical Maintenance, and Stan Shunpike, Reggie's new assistant. "Thank you for fixing the lift," she said as she passed them.

Charlie watched her walk away with a sinking feeling that rivalled the one he'd felt earlier when he'd thought the lift was going to fall.

"Er, I think this is my cue to say: don't just stand there, son - go after her," his father coached in a secretive whisper, leaning his head a bit into the lift and continuing to block the doors from closing. "Your mother and I always thought she was better suited to you, anyhow." He gave Charlie a teasing wink and a smile.

That push was exactly what Charlie needed. He grinned, thanked his father and Reginald and Stan, and then hurried past them all to chase after Pansy Parkinson.

He caught up to her in the Atrium, stopped her right in front of the repaired magical fountain by grabbing her wrist and pulling her to a stop. "Wait a blasted moment, witch!"

Pansy turned, surprised. "Wha-?"

He didn't give her a chance to speak, but pulled her into his arms and kissed her in front of a whole lobby full of witnesses. Once again, his body exploded in feelings of rightness and desire as he plundered her mouth in a very public claim.

"Have lunch with me," he asked as he temporarily pulled away, noting that she was the perfect height for him, even in the ridiculously high heels she was wearing. Her full, rounded hips felt good against his calloused palms as he smoothed his hands down and over them, learning their shape. "Don't say 'no'."

Slowly, Pansy's arms twined around his neck, even as a sultry, playful smirk tugged at her lips once again. "Give me one good reason why I should, Mister Pushy."

He tossed her his most devastating grin, the one he knew tended to melt witch's knickers. "I'm still holding your wand hostage."

"Hmmm..." She pursed together her well-kissed lips in consideration. "You promise to give _it_ to me at the end of lunch if I agree?"

"Absolutely."

She gave him an absolutely wicked smile and rubbed her thigh covertly, but cleverly between his legs, arousing him on purpose. "Really, truly?"

"On my honour," he said without hesitation. "I promise to give _it_ to you... over and over again. And this is one Weasley, at least, that keeps his word, especially to a beautiful, sexy woman."

"Beautiful and sexy. Hmmm... Are you sure you wouldn't prefer someone with longer legs, bigger breasts, and smaller hips?"

Firmly, Charlie shook his head. "You can keep the Greengrasses of the world. I'm only interested in girls like that hot Parkinson witch."

She gave him a stunning smile. "Well, then I suppose my answer is 'yes'," she said, disentangling herself from his arms. "I'll just go inform my boss that I'm taking the rest of the afternoon off." She headed back the way they'd come without another word.

Charlie caught up with her as she by-passed the lifts, and headed into the General Registry Office instead. "Not taking the elevators?" he snarked as she asked for parchment, quill, and ink.

"Let the Interdepartmental Note get stuck in limbo," she said, finishing up her request and asking for it to be delivered to her boss in International Magical Cooperation on the fifth floor. "I know of much softer and more comfortable places in which we can happily pass the time than the floor of a stuffy lift."

Charlie liked the sound of that.

Grabbing hold of his flannel, she pulled him back towards the Floos in the Atrium. As they stood in line for their turn, she plucked the last button on his shirt –the one she'd been fiddling with earlier- off with a triumphant, small cheer. "A souvenir," she said as they stepped forward to grab the green powder that would take them out. "Now I'll have something of yours to remind me of today's adventure."

Charlie bent his head and nibbled at her throat. "You'll have something of mine, all right," he declared in a whisper for her ears only. He pressed his pelvis against her backside. "Deep inside you. Now get moving witch. I'm dying to get to that part."

"No need to push," she said as they hit the Floo together. "Just tell me where we're going."

Wrapping an arm around her, he did better: he took her hand and tossed the powder she held down at the ground, calling out his cottage's address. They disappeared in a flash of green dragon's flame.

* * *

_**TO BE CONCLUDED...**_

* * *

**Author's Notes:**

**Please review!**


	5. Chapter 5

_**Epilogue – 2 years later**_

"Thank you," Charlie whispered to his lover, reaching out and holding her tired, limp hand.

Pansy smiled at him through tears, her blue-green eyes glowing with happiness. "I just did what you wanted, Weasley. I pushed."

He grinned, hearing the double entendre in her words. "That you did, sweetheart." He drew her hand to his lips and kissed the engagement ring on her left finger. "And I love you for it. Now. Always."

As Charlie held his newborn, little girl in one arm and his fiancée's hand in the other, he had to smile at the irony that was his life. Of all the women in the world to be in _this_ particular situation with, he had never imagined it would be with Pansy Parkinson.

Now, though, he knew there was no place else he would rather be.

_**~FIN~**_


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